Let The Blood Run Dry
by Ms Llewellyn
Summary: "Your starving yourself. You'll be waiting for death for an eternity, Severus. Is this worth it, an eternal agony, over that prick! Where is my Lord, the strong and confident man that loved and hated passionately? Where did my friend go?"...SLASH SS/HP.
1. Prologue

_**Let the Blood Run Dry**_

_Severus Snape in his day used to be a powerful Vampire Lord, until he gave up his throne and vanished when his Mate rejected him. Hiding amongst the wizards at Hogwarts, his world was about to come back and claim him when his old guard and dearest friend comes to warn him - war was coming, a war that went beyond the wizard community. The Vampire world was rebelling, taking claims it had no right, and Severus the last of the Royal Line is the one in the way of victory. But is Severus willing to stop a war? And was it possible to have find Love again?_

_"Your starving yourself. You'll be waiting for death for an eternity, Severus. Is this worth it, an eternal agony, over that prick! Where is my Lord, the strong and confident man that loved and hated passionately? Where did my friend go?"  
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_ **Prologue**_

Eric McIllioch stood in front of the large throne in the middle of the hall.

His eyes traced the Celtic knots, the perched ravens with their branches of olive wood, and the eagles in flight. Ravens and Eagles. The symbol of the two aligning houses, the last of the Royal Line coming together as one. It had been two centuries since the King had vanished. Had run, leaving them to fend for themselves. His hand clenched in anger and grief. He could understand though; the King, a man who fought and loved and wanted to be loved had found the mate he had been searching for, for centuries, was rejected. A mate was supposed to be the one person to accept all of you, to love you, even if the world itself turned it's back on you. To feel the rejection of a mate was agony, he knew. To never know that kind of love, it was almost understandable, his Lord's need to run.

But he missed his friend. In these dark times, he wished for his council, for his comfort. Eric truly began to understand his Lords agony. No more than a fortnight ago, his very own mate, Nikita Wallace, had been found, captured, and killed. Her ashes sent back to him. A low growl filled the empty chamber, it echoed off the stone walls. Curse that man! For his betrayal to the court, to their king! The thought of his betrayal brought back a home truth. Many had lost faith their Lord would ever return.

Two hundred years to a vampire was nothing, but two hundred years for a world without a King was something else entirely. Rebellions had started no more than a century ago, Vampires ventured out into the human world, risking exposure because they wanted fresh meat. Raids had begun, vampires attacking vampires. This world was in chaos.

Eric no matter how many years he's stood by the Kings side, could never begin to comprehend the type of stress this new position had brought. Eric was the Kings regent, but this world didn't need his guidance, it needed Their Lord Kings. He hoped that after all these years, soon, his feelers would bring back word that their lord had been found. With a sigh, he turned and walked from the room he had spent the better part of a century in when his Lord had ruled. Dust lifted in his wake.

They needed their King, now more than ever._**  
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	2. Chapter 1

_**Let the Blood Run Dry**_

_**Chapter One**_

The Forbidden Forest was dense, thick with large trees. It was the closet Severus came to home. The forest behind Ravenwing Castle was just as thick and dark, it gave him a wave of nostalgia as he walked the dark paths with a familiar air. He walked them late into the night, when he felt the ache of missing home. But tonight it wasn't the ache that drove him to venture into the creature laden forest, but one dark lord.

Sixteen years previous, Severus, swore an alliance to a Dark Lord, but not because he believed or even agreed in his propaganda. He joined to protect one family. A family in thought alone that brought a tidal wave of emotion. Emotion he learned to push away and persevere. But will power alone could not stop the feeling of sorrow so deep, of guilt so thick, of anger so strong. It was a daily struggle he more than once failed. And in doing so he took it out on the object of his self-appointed guardianship.

Voldemort returned two years ago to the day. And ninety-six hours previous, he had tried to kill Harry Potter and his selected group of friends at the Department of Mysteries. His posture tensed, his fist clenched and jaw locked - and he had been stuck here! Searching through a forest he knew did not have the boy-who-lived. How could he watch the boy, protect him, if he could not be there before him, before the enemy? Was this the wrong choice? At the time all those years ago, it seemed the right one, but lately he had been doubting it. What could a spy do really?

His body ached from his earlier encounter with his 'master.' He had been disappointed that the Department of Mysteries hadn't turned out so well, and in that anger had taken it out on his fellows. His joints creaked and his muscles twitched, but it didn't hurt as much as he was sure it hurt others. The Cruciatus never hurt as much as it hurt others. But it certainly hurt more than it should have - the consequences of his choice.

A starving man was weak without nourishment. And he was weak, well, weaker. Still stronger than most, but not as strong as he could be. His magic kept him that much stronger than a mortal man. He made that choice and he hated to think what lead to it. He was a vampire, a king, he had been somebody. He had done good. Was he really the monster that Ephraim had accused him of being so long ago? In trying to stop it, had been become it? Did he fulfill his own self-appointed prophecy?

He pushed such thoughts away, he should return to the castle. He had to present his report to Albus. A man that reminded him of an old friend. He vaguely wondered what he was doing these days, or the last two centuries. Severus didn't want to think about what he had been doing those two centuries away from his home and duties.

As he turned to head back towards the castle, a branch broke, somewhere close and he stood still. His senses reached out, the predator (no matter how weak) inside of him awakening. The smell of dirt, sweat, blood, and decay fill the air and beneath it all is the familiar scent of creatures like him.

A deep chuckle reverberated around the still air, and a low growl picked up in his chest. A warning. And that chuckle deepened into a mocking cruel laugh and he hated it. It reminded him sincerely of the Death Eaters during their raids. As four figures stepped from the tree's shadow and into the moon lite path. Surrounding him, their pale healthy skin glowed, their eyes shone with hunger and future victory, and their bodies wired for action. All of them dark haired and lithe.

Severus tensed. His black eyes calculating the odds of the outcome. He could win, but it won't be easy. If he'd eaten, instead of starving himself, he might come out unscathed - but he hadn't, and he was going to be late meeting Albus.

"You've over stepped your bounds, this isn't your territory, leave. Or your stay will become most unpleasant." He drawled. Many creatures inhabitable the Forbidden Forest, but each wandered there own territory. Nomadic vampires lived in forests and valleys, while those who lived in clans and large groups in habited the hidden cities within the world. Severus himself was the heir to two converging bloodlines of the old. The last. The true heir and king of his people.

"The weak little vampire, thinks himself so brave. What do you think, he a traitor to the cause?" A round of affirmation echoed him. "Of course he is, look how he dresses, how he smells of the humans that are taking over our lands. It's fellows like him that have us hiding, instead of conquering, taking what is rightfully ours." Severus frowned.

"What cause do you speak off?"

"Look how isolated he is from us," the speaker sneered. "It hasn't reached his ears. A change is coming, a new rise in the hierarchy, a better king than a coward who ran. Its time to choose sides and everything we were denied will become ours. Large hunting grounds, more land, more food. Our kind will rise above all those inferior. So I ask you, which side are you on?"

"I take no side."

"Pity. One more loss is hardly going to deter the objective." the vampire whispered, "Kill him, then we storm the castle, his lord wants the land within his grasp."

And the scuffle that cam after, taxed Severus' body. He could keep up with their speed, but barely. He dodged and rolled, and fought, his wand knocked from his grasp. It landed somewhere in the thicket. Blades glinted in what little light there was.

Vampires were old and unchanging, most preferred the close combat that a sword brought, the pleasure of overpowering and controlling the victims fate. Severus too, once upon a time, had relished in the chaos of battle. But he had grown weary of fighting, and this brought no pleasure.

Severus grit his teeth and staunched the yelp that threatened to fill the air as he stepped back, blood falling to the ground. A small blade had cut through the rough fabric of his robe, leaving blood and broken skin that was sluggish as it tried to heal itself. He never noticed the golden pendant that had always rested against the hollow of his clavical since his birth, a symbol of his birthright and heritage, fall to the ground amongst the twisting bodies and the parried blows as Severus tried to dodge the blades. That little bugger, with his smug grin, the one that held first blood was his.

And Severus went for him, resulting in an assault of the muggle variety. Brawling had always been his forte, especially when he was particularly angry and he would venture into the muggle world, find a seedy little bar in the back lit streets away from praying eyes and the home of some unsavory characters. That little bugger, with the messed dark hair and the dark eyes went down all wide eyed with disbelief. And with a small amount of satisfaction beneath the annoyance that ran high through his body, he gripped the blade that marked him and jammed it beneath the sternum and arching it upward.

The body stilled, cracks in the skin appeared, and slowly the body aged. When a vampire dies, they simply didn't turn into dust by combustion. They turned to dust as if time itself was flowing over them never stopping. Time had caught the one who slipped from her delicate grasp. He left the danger and reached for the sword that lay untouched beside the boy.

The sword he gripped, was not his own, but still the familiarity such a weapon within his grasp brought a wave of nostalgia. He had a better chance now, no magic could stand to a vampire who was faster then the spells that were cast. He swung it like an expert and he slipped past through their defenses, sword cut through cloth and skin. And one by one they dropped, but it wasn't easy.

His body ached fiercely. After a meeting, he shouldn't be active, he should be resting and recuperating. With a huff he flung the sword to the ground and leaned against a tree. He breathed in deeply, though he didn't exactly need it, but the action he found made him seem more human. Imagine the students surprise if he wasn't breathing, the truth of him being a vampire would become more than just a rumor. He laughed at all the first years who sprouted such things, because they were right and they didn't even know it. The irony.

He should get back, he had more than a death eater meeting to report. Something was going on. And the king and duty within him wondered what the hell was happening with his people.

* * *

><p>Just as dawn was breaking over the mountains two tall figures dressed in ragged cloaks and worn down clothes that gave a false sense that they were poor, except for the way they held themselves. With purpose and poise, of strength and experience, they weaved through the trees tracking the path of four of Lord Drochaid's men. They had followed them through the night in hopes of ambushing them, the rest of their squadron lay back in wait. The enemy wanted the land and the castle and the only way to get it was to slip in during the night and surprise the wizards - just because they were faster then the spells didn't mean wizards were in anyway defenseless. They were still human and unpredictable.<p>

The scene they stumbled upon was not what they were expecting. They expected resting men, not piles of dust and bones and an aging cadaver. Each depicting the age of the individuals, the cadaver being the youngest of the lot. All the signs of battle.

"Looks like they ran into the wrong person." whispered one in a brown cloak and blue eyes.

"More like the wrong end of a blade, I'd say this one." the other snorted, nudging the sword on the far side away from the others with his boot. Blood, scents of different flavors, still clung to its blade. The blue eyed one, walked over to the amythest eyed one.

"I was not aware there was anyone skilled enough with a blade in the vicinity, or one fast enough. This is a wizards place, last I checked swordsman ship was outdated to their kind."

"That's because it is, only those old enough to remember, the newest generation prefer their sticks."

"Then how is it an aging, no ancient wizard, take down four healthy vampires."

"That's the question isn't it." he murmured. "Anyway, check their bags for anything of importance." As the two searched and surveyed, one stepped on something solid and he lifted his boot and reached down picking up the circle piece of metal covered in dirt. As he cleared away the mud and revealed the pendant beneath.

"Cadoc, I think I found something important."

"Then bring it over and lets have a look." Walking over and holding out the small coin like pendant. Cadoc the one with amythest eyes, was surprised. With trembling fingers he gripped the gold coin and stared almost sightlessly at the ravens and eagles in flight and the two olive branches resting crossed at the bottom.

"By the gods..." he whispered. "Our wizard, wasn't a wizard. Do you know what this is, Gideon?" Gideon shook his head and Cadoc pulled him down. "Look at it, carefully, do you see the ravens and the eagles and the olive branches? Do you not know our history? This very thing, was created four hundred years ago to signify the aligning of two of the last royal families. It was given to the son, a son that vanished two hundred years ago."

"So..."

"So, we return home with this great news." But Gideon was still lost and Cadoc could see that. He wondered why he'd chosen this idiot, then he remembered he was skilled swordsman, not very bright though. He sighed internally, though he didn't let the annoyance dampen the hope that roiled in his stomach. They win this war yet.

"Gideon, it means our King is near."


End file.
